A Divine Trick
by 100 Star Night
Summary: A divine move is a truly inspired and original move; it is non-obvious and often turns a losing game into a winning one. What if Stiles had his moment of heavenly inspiration a little earlier, when there were no moves left, but a trick would suffice? Cheaters never win, but if it's the fate of everything he's ever held dear, Stiles may be willing to make an exception. Starts s3 e22
1. Cheaters Never Win: Says Who?

The sharp clack of tiles on the GO board resonated through his mind like gunshots as the Nogitsune made his next move. More pieces switched to black; more portions of Stiles Stilinski's mind fell under the control of the demon fox leeching his life away. "What's next, Stiles?" it drawled lazily. "You know you cannot win. I will take them all- your friends, your family, everyone who ever meant something to you." It paused, seeming to take delight in imagining the scenario. "We're going to destroy all of them, Stiles!" It bared its grotesque teeth in some hideous imitation of a smile. "One by one. They will all fall. You had best give up; save the pain, the trouble, the time."

"Shut up" the teen muttered, barely able to respond through his ever so slightly chattering teeth. Sweat dripped down his already tear-streaked face as he used up some of the last remaining bits of his strength to scream with more force this time. "Just shut _up_!" He could feel his strength failing; he barely make out what was happening in the whitewashed room, much less what was happening on the board. The spirit's voice just kept rattling through his head, keeping him from concentrating, keeping him from even noticing the new invaders in his mind. He picked up a white piece, placing it at random on the board. A few black tiles turned white, but only enough to hold him out for another couple of moves. As far as he could see, there was no way left for him to win. But maybe, that overly optimistic portion of his ADD mind said, just maybe he could last another few turns.

In another part of Stiles's mind, Scott and Lydia ran full-force into each other, skidding a little on the tile floor of the hallway they appeared to be in.

"Any luck?" Scott panted, silently pleading that the banshee's search had been more fruitful than his own. They need to find Stiles, the _real_ Stiles, and fast. Before it was too late.

"No," she gasped, bent over with her hands on her knees.

Scott felt the last bit of hope in his mind get crushed. "What- what do we do now?" he asked, trying to hold back a lump in his throat. What if his best friend, his brother was gone forever?

Lydia looked up at him. "How the fuck should I know? This isn't like the real world, we're inside someone's freaking mind! I can't just scream and-" she paused, straightening up. An idea struck her like lightning. "Scott, Stiles is part of your pack. He's no werewolf, but he _is_ pack. And how do pack members call to each other?"

Scot understood immediately. "They howl."

The Alpha's roar ripped through Stiles's mindscape, ripping away the hallway they had been standing in before, flattening everything until they were suddenly standing in the middle of a completely white room where a very large stump of a certain tree was sitting. But Scott barely noticed the familiar Nemeton, because on top of it was his favorite star-wars fan and the source of their troubles: the Nogitsune. And they were playing some sort of game.

Stiles was doomed. He had fought as long and as hard as he could, but he only had one piece left on the board. He was as strong as his friends- he didn't have claws or fangs or the ability to see the future or even years of hunter training. A chain breaks at the weakest link, he thought bitterly, resigned to his seemingly unavoidable fate. He was the weakest link. He had tried so hard; he had fought so long, but he couldn't do it anymore. He had one piece left, and then it was the Nogitsune move.

"I am a thousand years old, you cannot beat me. I've warned you- this is my game. You think you can beat me at my game?" It laughed. Not the 'haha that's vaguely amusing' type of laugh, the type of laugh that made your sides feel like they were splitting. The demon was going to win, and he was basking in the glory of his opponent's final move. "You have nowhere left to go" it reminded Stiles.

Then Scott roared.

Everything froze. Both GO players looked up, and Stiles was fairly certain that he'd never been so grateful to anyone in his entire life. Scott and Lydia, his friends, had risked everything to come here; they had fought their way into his mind, all to save him? Newfound courage, strength, and hope flooded his system.

And Stiles did the unthinkable. He was about the smash the board, scatter the infernal pieces across the room, when he, for once, decided to think about his actions. He still had one move. He still had his friends. It was still _his_ mind.

The Nogitsune thought it had won, but it had made a mistake every basic game player knew to avoid. It had forgotten to define the rules of the game.

Stiles exiled his friends from his mind, grinning like a madman at Scott as his friend faded back into reality. Then Stiles spun the GO board around, so all of the black tiles were facing him, and made his final move. The black player won, but the black player was no longer the Nogitsune. Stiles was now the champion.

"I win" the teen declared to the ancient evil spirit, who looked almost comically flabbergasted. "Now get the fuck out of my mind."


	2. Home, Flies, and Faces

"I win" the teen declared to the ancient evil spirit, who looked almost comically flabbergasted. "Now get the fuck out of my mind."

The silence was so loud that Stiles thought his eardrums might shatter from the sheer lack of noise, and then a sound like the sharp crack of shattering glass ricocheted through the room. Cracks appeared on the Nogitsune before it began to crumble, pieces of its avatar cracking off and smashing as they hit the white tiled floor, like the spirit had only ever been made of porcelain. A wave of living shadow rose up from where the nogitsune used to be, however, forming a ghastly claw as it lunged for Stiles's throat; but it was far too late for the creature to make a move. The game was over, and _Stiles_ had won.

Just as the limb would have grazed the boy's neck, the spirit exploded; splintering into thousands of black tendrils that scattered away from the heart of the Nemeton where Stiles sat, accelerating until they smashed out of the human's mind. Stars danced across his eyes even as a faint smile graced the boy's lips. The first real smile in the past few weeks, he thought absentmindedly, even as everything in his world faded to black.

The eerie silence was mimicked in the middle of the McCall's living room, where Scott stood behind his best friend and Lydia, alpha claws puncturing the back of their necks, mentally connecting the three. Sheriff Stilinski, Melissa McCall, and a host of other concerned faces gazed on the scene anxiously; scarcely daring to breathe as they awaited the return of Scott, Lydia, and hopefully _their_ Stiles. So no one in the room missed it when Scott and Lydia simultaneously flinched, reacting to stimuli only those in the non-physical world could see. No one missed it as a small smile spread across the face of the Nogitsune; or was it Stiles' face now?

The trio's eyes all flashed open, Scott and Lydia gasping, reeling back from the shock of being forced out of Stiles' mind. Scott's red eyes met Lydia's green ones, checking to make sure she was ok, before seeking out Deaton and voicing the one question everyone was thinking: "Did it work?"

But the veterinarian's attention was anywhere but on on Scott's question. His eyes were glued onto the third person who had gasped awake, and he was horrified by what he saw. Everyone else was intently watching Stiles frantically squirming about, trying to rip the black duct tape off of his mouth, and Deaton realized that he was the only one who had glimpsed the teen's just as he was waking up. While everyone else was distracted at the sight of Scott and Lydia flailing backwards, his professionally trained eyes were drawn almost instinctively back to the sickest looking member of the trio. It was just for a moment, so he couldn't be completely sure, but he was almost positive that Stiles' normally chocolate brown eyes had briefly flashed golden orange, the colour of a Kitsune. The druid was so certain that Scott would succeed, and bring back his possessed best friend, yet the evidence of his employee's failure was literally right in front of his eyes. So Deaton stood frozen in shock, uncertain of what to do until Stiles's hand finally found the edge of the duct tape on his mouth.

Yanking the constraining black material off of his lips, Stiles collapsed on the floor, coughing up a storm until host of black flies poured from his mouth. The writhing mass of insects took to the air, swarming out the door before anyone could react. A small glob of black supernatural blood leaked from the corner of Stiles' mouth as he shakily moved from his position on all fours to a slightly more poised, yet slightly more unstable kneel on the floor. His eyes desperately darted across the room, greedily drinking in all of the guarded yet hopeful faces that surrounded him. Finding both his dad and Scott amongst the hesitant onlookers, his body released a wave of tension he didn't know he had been holding. Stiles locked eyes with his brother in all but blood, nodding a silent, small, sincere thanks. A faint smile darted across his face even as he gasped for air the way a marathon runner does after they cross the finish line.

"Well," he panted, breaking eye contact with Scott to gaze at everyone in the room. "That tasted horrible." There was a momentary pause followed by a faint, reluctant murmur of laughter before everything swirled for the teen, people turning upside down -or was he turning upside down?- and his vision got blurrier along the edges. But this time, Stiles didn't feel scared or stressed. He was with his friends and he was safe; so he felt no fear as the floor rushed up to meet him while he succumbed to the dark world of unconsciousness.

Scott and the Sheriff simultaneously rushed forward, catching the boy with only inches to spare.

It was while they were debating what to do when Deaton snapped back to his senses.

"Carry him upstairs, Scott," the druid softly commanded. "He's had a long and tiring journey; he will surely need rest before anything else can be done. We have awhile before he awakens; in the meantime we can decide what is to come next."

His words were double-edged. If Deaton knew one thing, it was that sometimes patience was best. From his vast supply of knowledge, he knew that all kitsune were tricksters, notorious for their strategies: each plan had contingency plans upon contingency plans. Needless to say, it was very easy to fall into one of their traps, so he resolved to stand by and wait. If Stiles' freedom was a trick of the fox, as he believed, it was best to let the Nogitsune believe it had the upper hand for now. If Stiles was really Stiles now, well… then he had a lot of research to do.

...oo00OO00oo…

Hey! Thanks for reading; it's nice to know people actually care about what random scenarios I can imagine. Hopefully you already know this, but in case you didn't, I don't own Teen Wolf. And to the guest reviewer who asked me to update: ask and you shall (sometimes) receive.

;-)

Leave me a review on what you want to see happen, on how I could improve my writing, or even just to say hi. Have a happy almost Halloween!


	3. Waking Up

It should have surprised him, but it really didn't. At this point in Stiles Stilinski's supernaturally abnormal life, it seemed that nothing could really phase him anymore. Not even waking up in a bed that was not his own, with someone he did not immediately recognize holding up his wrist.

He was about to wrench away from the mysterious hand holding up his arm, when his mind caught up with the world around him. _Deaton_ , a small part of him mumbled. The man was Deaton, he was in the McCall's guest room, and the vet was… taking his pulse?

 _Well_ , a voice in the back of his mind dryly commented. _This is a new low: being checked out by a doctor for animals... Great. Just remind me to put that on my résumé_. The logical side of Stiles mind reclaimed his attention, however, drawing his awareness to the situation around him, allowing him to tune into the conversation at hand.

"...vitals normal, too." It was Deaton who was speaking. "Physically, he is human, albeit very ill." The doctor lowered his voice, speaking even more softly towards Scott, who frowned in consternation from his position at the foot of the bed. "Scott, you do realize I have no way to know for sure. Eventually, we have to-"

Deaton was interrupted by a gesture from Scott, cueing him into the fact that Stiles had awoken. There was an awkward pause in the room as everyone simultaneously decided to hold their breath.

"Hey" Stiles mumbled, trying to shake off the remains of his sleep. No one in the room had any response. Stiles cleared his throat, and then confronted the elephant in the room."So... Am I really, you know, me?"

It was the question everyone wanted to ask but no one could truly answer, so they all turned to Scott. By now it was almost instinctual, for everyone in the pack to turn to Scott when they needed an answer. Scott would then, in turn, look to Deaton, but Deaton had no answers to give this time. So Scott braced himself with all of the strength he could muster and replied as honestly as possible: "We're not quite sure yet, man."

Stiles' face fell, breaking Scott's heart just a little more with each passing second. Years of basically living together had given Scott a pretty clear image of who Stiles was, though the person sitting in front of him scarcely fit that image. Stiles was supposed to be a clumsy, awkward, geeky teenager who was always up for the next adventure, always able to see the silver lining of the mushroom clouds. But now he seemed so… defeated. Stiles' expression was guarded, as if he was too scared to risk hoping for the future.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Scott continued on with his answer, "but we all saw what happened. I mean, flies are kind-of a Nogitsune thing, right? And they left you, so… you're you… right?" Scott's voice faded into nothingness when he realized his words weren't reaching his brother. Moving on years of instinct, Scott moved closer to Stiles, gently placing a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder. "We'll figure it out. We always do." Stiles gave Scott a half-hearted smile, indicating that he heard, followed by a deep breath and then a slight laughing scoff as Stiles reflected on the situation they were currently in.

"What a world we live in" Stiles remarked, shaking his head slightly as he ran a hand through his buzzcut hair. Scott gave an unwitting nostalgic smile in response. Indeed, it had been a very tense month or so for the both of them, what with the Alpha pack, the Darach, and the Nogitsune problems on top of that; but still. Neither Scott nor Stiles was accustomed to having so many disasters piled up, and the stress only made everything more emotional. Normally, they were pretty chill teenagers, but that only went so far. And with the past few years all piled up, their generally accepting nature was being tried quite a bit.

Werewolves? Sure, they could accept that. Hunters? Ok, makes sense. Kanimas? Why not. An alpha pack? No problem. Darachs? Pushing it, but sure.

Yet werewolves, hunters, kanimas, alpha packs, darachs, and kitsunes all piled up? That was a lot to take, no matter who was facing it. It was no wonder why everything hurt; there are only so many blows one could take before they got a bruise or two. It seemed like as soon as the duo figured out one piece of the supernatural world, another would blindside them just as fast. At this point, a slightly insane moment of laughter in recognition of the absurdity they had faced together was long past overdue.

The bromance was broken when Kira burst into the room, however, dragging Scott and Stiles back to the present and reminding them of the problems still ahead. "Guys you have to move, now," she panted. "My mom, she… I tried to stop it, but…" Her eyes skittered across the room, taking in the faces of some of her closest friends. She took a deep breath, attempting to catch her runaway breath and recenter herself, and then continued. "It's the Oni. They're on their way here. If we're going to do something, it has to be now."

Scott's eyes flashed red, preparing himself for the fight he saw as inevitable, contrasting with Stiles almost immediate yet very calm response. "It's okay, let them come." Scott's eyes faded back to their natural colour, and he gave Stiles a questioning look. "I want," Stile paused, seeking for the right word. "I need to know. I need to figure it out. For your sake and for mine." A glance at the determined set of Stiles' jaw gave Scott all of the information he needed to know; Stiles was not going to change his mind.

Dang Stilinski stubbornness. Whenever either Stiles or the Sheriff set their mind to something, it was going to happen, and it was generally best to just help out before things got completely out of hand. So Scott and Kira each took an arm of the still visibly ill former-nogitsune and helped him downstairs to face the Oni. They all knew that it would either be Stiles' death or his liberty, and they could only pray for the latter.

...oo00OO00oo...

Hey! I'm really sorry that this chapter took so long, I had exams, tests, competitions, auditions, and a billion other excuses that are all reasons why it took so long to update, as well as a huge case of writer's block. So if this chapter doesn't make sense, let me know. Also let me know if you enjoyed it or have any cool ideas on what should happen or how I could improve. Catch you later and happy almost MLK Day!

(because I'm not sure if this is a thing in other countries: MLK Day is a holiday we have here in the USA to celebrate Martin Luther King Jr and what he did for the civil rights movement, it's pretty sweet and you should look him up if you don't know who I'm talking about)


	4. And Then It Was Night

Stiles hobbled his way down the McCall family staircase, each step emphasizing how sore his muscles were by sending little pins and needles of pain through his legs. Kira and Scott were supporting some of his weight, but it still hurt more than Stiles thought it would.

The sight of already standing in the middle of the living room really shouldn't have surprised him, but still. He was tired and trying really hard to keep up a facade of 'I'm-actually- **not** -feeling-miserable', so a few lapses in attention were to be expected. Nonetheless, Stiles could appreciate the subtle dramatic flair that accompanied the ritualistic summoning of the Oni. The final blood-red rays of sunlight slanted in through the window, a natural countdown timer that highlighted the tense atmosphere of the room. A cursory glance outside revealed that indeed, the last beams of the setting sun were dying fast.

Kira's mom minutely straightened, drawing herself up as she took a breath in preparation. The room grew darker, and then it was night.

The eldest Kitsune exhaled and the Oni swirled into existence, naturally falling into a perfect V-shape behind their master. Their synchronised, somber steps towards Stiles echoed in the otherwise too-still room. Stiles could feel his heart pounding, could feel every nerve in his body wake up simultaneously scream at him to run. Even so, he did not move an inch as the Oni glided into a circular formation around him. There was no going back; now was the deciding moment. With a sudden explosion of movement the Oni jerked forward, their dark leather-clad hands forcing Stiles to his knees. The teen felt his veins turn to ice as a mark was supernaturally tattooed behind his ear, before the Oni mercifully faded from existence.

The touch of the Oni was almost how Stiles imagined a dementor's kiss felt, except the Oni were perhaps scarier due to their neutrality. Their touch held no pain, no anger, no sorrow, but also took away all warmth, all love, all laughter. There was no need to run, no need to stay; there was no need to laugh, no need to cry; there was simply nothing. It made him feel completely hollow, living and breathing but not really alive. The Oni were cold novocaine and the absence of everything; they were a perfect vacuum. For just the moment, when the Oni had its hand on his bare face, Stiles knew how it felt to be truly empty.

He fell to the floor.

The world came rushing back.

Scott and Kira were crouching over, checking the new branding on the side of Stiles' head while Deaton and Melissa stood hesitantly in the corner, anxious tension filling the air.

"It worked!" Scott called, smiling at the small character for 'self' behind his best friend's ear.

"Am I actually me, then?" questioned Stiles, seeking the truth directly from the Oni's master.

"More you than Nogitsune," she commented hesitantly. But Stiles was not deterred by her still mistrusting glare.

"Can the Oni find him?"

There was a pause as Noshkio considered her answer. "Yes. He has weakened, though, which is both a blessing and a curse. He is not as strong now, but he is also a much smaller target. He's easier to defeat, but also harder to find."

Stiles grimaced at the floor. "Can they kill him?"

"That depends on how strong he is when we find him."

The room fell quiet. It was a daunting prospect, that a squadron of supernatural demon-warriors still wouldn't be able to stop the void kitsune. The train of solemn musing was broken, however, by the sharp ringing of Scott's cellphone. He pulled the small black device from his pocket and held it to his ear.

"Allison- what's up?" Scott answered.

"It's Lydia- she's not answering any of my calls and I'm worried she might be under the Nogitsune's influence, as well," the Argent rushed.

"As well? Allison, what exactly all happened?"

"The twins and Isaac were trying to rip each other apart but Kira and I managed to stop them and we realized that they were just being controlled by the nogitsune through these flies and I'm really worried about Lydia and she's not answering my calls and-" she paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "And I'm worried and I don't know what to do," she concluded with a stressed sigh.

Scott paused, taking only a moment to think things through before announcing his plan to both the phone and everyone in the room with him. "Ok, we're going to meet you at the Martin's house in ten minutes. Tell her mom that she said you could stay late studying tonight or something; if Lydia is there then let us know. If not… well, then we start a search."

Scott snapped his phone off, meeting the questioning gazes of everyone else in the room. "Let's go. Lydia isn't answering and I don't like it; something just feels off."

As if fate was seeking to cruelly reaffirm his misgivings, a scream ripped through the night air. Not just any scream, though. This was a scream infused with power, the scream of a banshee.

Scott redialled his phone in an instant. "Allison? Change of plans. Isaac is with you, right? Follow him to the source of that scream, we'll meet you there." He cast a determined gaze across the room before he finished addressing his pack. "Lydia's in trouble."

...oo00OO00oo…

Hey! Life has been crazy, which is why I haven't updated in awhile, but I promise I will not give up on this story. If I ever think that I won't finish it, I'll post the rest of my plot points and let someone else write it, but I seriously doubt that that will happen. Regardless, thanks for being patient and sorry my chapters are so short; I figured I'd just post now and not worry about length until after it's too late. Thanks for reading, leave review, and don't forget to follow or favorite. Catch you later!

Love, peace, and a little elbow grease

Faith, trust, and a little pixie dust


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